


gimme some salt

by wintercourse



Category: Homestuck
Genre: :O, Public Drunkenness, so-minor-its-practically-invisible suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:03:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercourse/pseuds/wintercourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She holds her down, acts like an anchor. It feels right, feels appropriate, because right now Jade feels like she's wading through water. A small part of her says <em>drowning.</em> The other says shut the fuck up.</p><p>everybody loves rosie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gimme some salt

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written in forever, and fanfic never, but i have no idea how to make characters right now. so back at it again with crappy sort-of song fic  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFOyuhBFtRw

_sally hit the pavement, wineglass in her hand_

_sally's rearrangement, I'll never understand_

"No Jade, like, ok hear me out."

Jade giggles at Rose's slurred words. She thinks so, anyway, even if its more of a cackle and she throws her head back, stumbles forwards. Who can feel embarrassed when they're this drunk anyway right? Their shadows are long enough that they should maybe be worried, still out and possibly-probably-very inebriated, but its fine because Rose has always been brave. Brave, maybe reckless, but Jade thinks its infectious, ignoring cautious lectures! She makes a mental note to rap that at Dave later.

It's dark, and her chest feels hollow, the ground wobbles and rushes and slaps at her heels with each step and jeez she hates it, stupid ground. She thinks maybe she could leave it behind, fly like old times, if it wasn't for Rose. Rose's firm weight, Rose's arms draped across her shoulders, a swathe of cold contact along her neck. She holds her down, acts like an anchor. It feels right, feels appropriate, because right now Jade feels like she's wading through water. A small part of her says _drowning_. The other says shut the fuck up.

Rose is cold, ice on her hands and under her words.

"It's like this, ok, have - have you seen this?" She launches herself off Jade, who has just a moment to miss the cold before Rose is back, grabbing one of her wrists. She twangs a deep red forget-me-not with a derisive smirk, and traces a line on Jade's palm, skirting the edge where dark skin meets light, running over callouses like driving on gravel.

"This right here. You know what this is Jadey? Cause I know what this is." Jade opens her mouth like she has something to say, but nothing comes out. Rose holds up a finger anyway, _this is important dear, listen_ , and it's so familiar she could weep.

"It's the path of doom." They're face to face now, Rose's fingers marking moons in Jade's wrist, the offending tangle of grooves and callouses held between them. Jade's eyes widen and she feels Rose's breath in her face and oh _shit_. She can still taste the acrid bit of vomit she spat out earlier, and takes a split second to decide that Rose probably has a very sophisticated palate, and she really shouldn't move any closer.

"And see here?" She jabs a sharp nail against Jade's palm, midway along the line she traced. " _You are here!_ I can't see a way off anymore Jade. Back then I could have figured it out, saved everyone, you know? Back when I could see!" She's smiling vacantly, or widly, or both, Jade really can't tell. She meets her eyes and exhales through her teeth. They're purple, and very pretty. Jade berates herself for not thinking something more poetic, but its the best she can do when her head feels full of saltwater and Rose's nails in her skin have sent her reeling.

"Doooom," Rose croons, eyes again fixed on Jade's palm. "Wait, there's something else there! The Seer of Light can always spot the brightside huh!"

She leans in abruptly and licks a broad stripe up Jade's hand, eyes closed. Jade yelps.

"Your love line is great!"

-

_but little did I wonder, little did I try_

_her little bit of thunder, her little bit of lightning_

John really likes storms. It makes sense, sometimes, that he chose to live with three of them. And sometimes it doesn't make sense, and he needs a break from Hurricanes This That and The Other, and it's those times he goes to the roof to chill out. Today the sky is pissed off and the rain is pouring, so he's taking the "chill" part very literally.

Between the drizzle and the mist he can't see ten feet ahead of him, but for a second the rain parts like a curtain and he sees Rose sat daintily on the roof's edge. The moment is perfect to the point of disbelief, like she's posed on a little stage for an audience of John, himself and he. Which is a nice thought, if a bit self centered. The electricity in the atmosphere must be bending rays and warping light, because he swears he sees the water hit her skin clear, and run off it in almost-black rivulets. He doesn't know much about how light works though, duh.

The air con unit is set flush against the raised edge of the roof, and he hops up on to it, cringing at the clanging he makes on contact. The wind drives the water right into him. It feels nice, so he closes his eyes, spreads his arms wide, and calls over his shoulder.

"You should be careful on the edge! It must be really slippery, I mean obviously, but yeah it could be dangerous!"

"You're one to talk Superman!" She's walking over, so he strikes an even more ridiculous pose, silently pleased at his poor eyesight and vaguely Clark Kent-ish glasses. Rose shields her eyes and gazes up at him in mock wonder.

"Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it an idiot who's probably going to fall headfirst off the roof?"

"Fine Miss Spoilsport, I'll get down." She stops him with a palm in the air, and a hand held impatiently aloft as she waits for him. To what? Support himself as he hops down? Share a tender cinematic hand-holding moment in the pouring rain? Get on with it and hoist her up already, dipshit? He sees the glint in her eye and goes with the latter.

Its a bit more cramped, sharing the small square with her, but its also pretty cold so he doesn't really mind staying close. She turns both of them to face the edge.

"What do you think would happen though? If you fell, I mean." He sees the real question in her raised eyebrow, feels it in the hand at his back, guiding him forwards. _Would you fly?_

"Well, nothing I guess. I'd just fall."

"Of course. But," the sentence hangs for a split second, and she picks it up before he can choose a possible ending from his racing thoughts, "What do you think would happen if you jumped?"

And he wonders why she asked, and why he isn't as sure of the answer; whether she knows how much he's ached for it and resented the ground for every step he's forced to take. Her nails dig into his soaked shirt, his head spins and mostly he wonders why he shouldn't just do it. He feels light enough.

But instead he turns, cocks an eyebrow and tells her very seriously, _I think you might be projecting Rose, if you feel low we're always here to talk_. His grin gives him away, she smiles as she looks down, and the moment is gone. The electricity in the air does nothing to the light, the water runs clear off her skin and his feet are planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much.

-

_sucka sucka mc, sing my favourite song_

_sing it for the dancing, sing it for the somber ones_

Sometimes she looks like the epitome of elegance, beauty incarnate. Sometimes she looks like something the cat dragged in, clawed up and shit on. Dave is really glad for those times. He's an artificially-assisted morning person, perfectly normal (as much as Dave Strider can be, anyway) once he gets a good dose of caffeine. He likes to be somewhat consistent, after all, establish a behavioural baseline. Even if he swings from it more often than he'll admit. The point is, if he's gonna throw these chumps a curveball, he wants it to be carefully planned and fully intentional - more likely to hit target and score a slam dunk. Mangled sports metaphor: check.

So Rose is the one to enter the kitchen bleary-eyed and thoroughly ticked off at the asscrack of dawn.

"Aww, did Rosey-Posey wake up on the wrong side of the wizard dakimakura?" She ignores his question, and his pout, rummaging through the fridge as though its contents were far more interesting. They probably are - he knows for a fact that Jade's left a carton of soy milk in there long enough to gain sentience.

"You know I don't like to banter until at least 10 am Dave."

"Fair enough. You look like fuckin shit though, no joke. You need a shoulder to lean on? A headphone to share?"

It's standard practise by now - they listen to Dave's iPod, and she pretends to be surprised when his newest mix is inevitably shuffled into play. She 'insists' on listening to it, and tents her fingers as she appraises the work with narrowed eyes. _It's nothing special_ leads to _I love it, Dave_ , leads to _Well shucks lady, thank you kindly_ with a suppressed smile and backhanded comment regarding her own hobbies. Rinse and repeat. It's a good way to build up his ego, and make him feel like shit for wasting her time.

This time he doesn't have anything new to play her, but they put their heads together anyway. They end up listening to something pretty and angsty, with lyrics about the sea.

"How entry level indie of you, Dave." She punctuates it with a yawn, he suspects half seriously (it's still pretty damn early), and rests her head against his. They match perfectly - same height, same slouch, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, knee to knee, repeat ad infinitum. All it means is that they don't fit very well against each other.

He knows every inch of her form as it corresponds to his own, occupying a mirroring space, so he senses more than sees her slip two fingers up to his neck. She's trying to find his pulse, maybe sync it to the music. Like he isn't aware of every tick already. His heart and the tinkling, tripping beat tie him down and string him along, and he thinks sometimes that she wants to do the same thing. As much as he likes to feel grounded, at a baseline, between the three of them it's hard not to be resentful. A bit bitter.

He glances at her sidelong, and she has the sense to faux-sheepishly withdraw her hand. Sometimes she's beautiful, and sometimes she looks like shit, but sometimes she's both. It's those times he knows he's fucked.

-

_curious velocity, brought me to a halt_

she imagines a screwed up piece of paper flying across the empty room, and it goes halfway before falling. she's sweating, trying to remember how to work around gravity, tweak the laws of physics, when she sees rose in the doorway. _do it again,_ she breathes. a mug of something, opaque and warm looking, twitches in her hands and smashes into pieces on the floor. rose swears under her breath, stalks over, muttering reverently, _so good so proud so close_ , and crushes their lips together.

he's on the roof again, until jade sneaks up behind him and drags him back down. he swears she didnt scare him or anything, and hears rose snicker from the shadows. the girls say nothing. he feels the gravity of the moment, and she feels the mounting breeze. she narrows her eyes and smiles, he thinks, like a predator.

earphone in, earphone in, wait. breathe. count. half of an hour, a forty eighth of twenty four - earphone out. he tries to look annoyed but jade is in his face, john behind him, two pairs of scratchy legs against his and he can't quite mask his fondness. until rose has nails in his arm and his hair and they're all moving together, like messy off beat parts of the same walk cycle. going on some bullshit adventure maybe, wasting time almost definitely. he falters in his first few steps until the slapping of his bare feet on the wooden floor seems to fit with the others', and he breaks his concentration just in time to see rose and jade share a glance he can only assume is meaningful.

_flatten me my baby_

she's back to full one-step-ahead confidence. they're finally catching up.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this when i woke up at two in the morning. im now posting it at two on a different morning bc im rose loving trash. dont look at me (comments are cool though i've never posted writing before!!)


End file.
